Roses Are Red

Book Two Hate Mail
Chapter Twenty

No one could figure out what was happening, or why. He just loved that. The feeling of superiority it bred. They were all such dithering fools.

On a numerical scale of 9.9999 out of 10, things were going very well. The Mastermind was certain that he hadn't made a meaningful mistake. He took particular satisfaction in the Falls Church robbery and especially the four puzzling murders.

He relived every moment of the bloody crime as if he had been there instead of lucky Messrs Red, White, Blue, and Ms Green. He visualized the scene at the manager's house, and then the murders at the bank, with such intense pleasure and satisfaction. He recreated it in his mind again and again and never tired of the scenario, especially the killings. The artistry and symbolism of them infused him with confidence in the cleverness of his thinking the rightness of it.

He found himself smiling at the thought of the phone call to the police: The tip that a robbery was in progress. He'd made the call. He'd wanted the First Union employees killed. That was the whole goddamn point. Didn't anybody see that yet?

He had another team to recruit now, the most important one, and the hardest to find. The final crew had to be extremely capable and self-sufficient, and, because of that self-sufficiency, they would pose a danger to him. He understood very well that clever people often had large and uncontrollable egos. He certainly did.

He brought up the names of potential candidates on his computer screen. He read lengthy profiles, and even criminal records, which he thought of as their resumes. Then suddenly that dreary, rainy afternoon, he came across a crew that was as different from the others as he was from the rest of humanity.

The proof? They had no criminal record. They had never been caught, never even been suspected. It was why they'd been so hard for him to find. They seemed perfect for his perfect job for his masterpiece.

No one could figure out what was about to happen.